Their country estate matched their status: a huge, soulless house of dark wood with massive picture windows that stared out at Lake Tahoe like cold, vacant eyes. The lawn was flawless; not a single dandelion was allowed to grow. Everything was too perfect, too calculated, devoid of any real warmth. Even the sun seemed different here. Its rays didn’t warm; they just highlighted the glassy sheen of the water and the cold gleam of the expensive cars by the gate.